


storm caught

by petvampire



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Drabble, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Prompt Fill, Shameless Self-Indulgence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1472107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petvampire/pseuds/petvampire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because I told Dai I'd write her porn for her prompt. xD Exactly what it says on the tin: brief, thunderstormy Jasico smut. Whee!</p>
            </blockquote>





	storm caught

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: 'jasico - thunderstorms :B'
> 
> HERE YOU GO BB. (For http://argentians.tumblr.com/)
> 
> (PS Jason may be a wee bit of an exhibitionist. xD)

They're caught in a storm just outside of the camp, the kind of summer squall that comes on suddenly, the skies clear one moment, opening up to dump down torrents of rain the next. Nico is instantly drenched, water sticking the fabric of his shirt and jeans to his skin, hair plastered to the sides of his face. He's never had a problem with storms, but he's not overly fond of them, either; especially not when they take him by surprise.

Jason's hand closes on his own; his touch is electric. “Come on.” There's a breathless eagerness in his voice - Jason seems to be reveling in it, the warm rain and play and thunder of lightning overhead. He just laughs at the son of Hades' judging look, tugging him forward, towards the dubious shelter of a spreading oak tree.

Nico considers making a crack about the fact that they're sheltering from the storm under a lightning rod, but there's no point; a son of Jupiter isn't likely to get struck by lightning, no matter how much of an idiot he's being, running around outside in the rain. He ducks under the tree, shielded only in part by the spread of branches.

Jason leans over him, one forearm braced against the oak next to Nico's head, sheltering him a little more from the rain. He catches the quick flash of a smile tugging at the corners of the other's mouth before he leans down, lips meeting the other demigod's.

It's a gentle brush that quickly turns heated, and Nico can taste the rain on his lips, can taste the storm. Jason always seems like he's holding back in company, too reserved and too serious, but he's still a son of Jupiter, of  _Rome_ , a born-and-bred hero of Olympus; there's lightning in his blood, a heat and a passion he rarely gives vent to. In the midst of battle, maybe, but seldom otherwise.

Except in moments like this.

He doesn't even care about the rain anymore, because Jason's hand is sliding down his side, thumb tracing the sharp jut of his hipbone through the soaked fabric sticking to his skin. Nico arches into his touch, a low sound at the back of his throat, lips parting to the press of the other's tongue. It's familiar and enthralling, and both of Jason's hands are at his waist now, palms fever-warm against his skin as he pushes the sopping shirt up, sliding hands under it to feel bare skin.

There's a momentary flicker of unease, a thought of complaining that they're out in the open, that anyone who happens by might see. It passes in a breath; if worst comes to worst, Nico can just shroud them in shadows. They can be elsewhere in a matter of seconds, although he might be a little distracted to find a clear path. It doesn't matter. It's raining buckets, and no one sane is going to be out here.

So he doesn't argue, just kisses back, arches that little bit more when the other demigod's thumb brushes against a nipple. Jason makes a sound against his mouth that's almost a growl, and he presses Nico up against the tree, one leg pressing in between his, drawing out a quiet sound in return that he seems to revel in.

Hands slide back down his sides to tug restlessly at damp jeans, fumbling a little because the denim is heavy and soaked and doesn't want to  _move_ , but Jason is nothing if not persistent. He tugs the other's jeans and boxers an inch or two down his thighs, doesn't bother trying to fight them any further; it's enough that he has access to bare skin. His hand slides over Nico's hip again, following the sharp curve where bone presses against pale skin, fingertips ghosting just close enough to his cock to make the son of Hades suck in a quick and needy breath.

Jason doesn't tease for long; he might have Roman discipline, but that doesn't exactly translate to patience and restraint. Warm fingers trail along Nico's length, and he breaks the kiss to tilt his head back against the tree, bites his lip to hold back a groan. His hands tighten in the back of the other demigod's shirt, slip down to the small of his back to press him closer.

It takes more time than he'd like for the other to get his own jeans open, but Nico spares a moment to appreciate the fact that Jason apparently has some bizarre Roman aversion to wearing any kind of undergarments. He tugs himself out, hard and flushed, and surges forward again, pressed firmly up against Nico. He takes them both in hand, skin slick with the rain still pouring around them, and settles into a rhythm that is quick and needy and utterly lacking in any restraint. His hips roll forward against Nico's, and he answers the movement with his own, arching and panting and leaning to stifle his gasps against Jason's shoulder.

They don't last more than a few minutes, and it's messy and hot and Nico's heart is in his throat, and then he's over the edge, the friction and the way Jason  _groans_ into his ear pushing him too far. His hips push forward and he spills over the other's hand, and he feels it the second Jason follows, feels his heartbeat skitter out of rhythm and his breath catch and his body tense. It's amazing, it's  _always_ amazing, and he shuts his eyes as they slump back against the oak tree, just holding on.

They wait out the storm with breathless, messy kisses and the warm, comforting press of bodies, and let the rain wash the rest away. 


End file.
